to the sea, i'll return (to your embrace, i'll be)
by FrostybWitch
Summary: All ship girls are born from the sea— from the deepest depths of the ocean. It is where we thrive, for it is where our hearts truly lie. So do not be afraid, my child, if the day for you to return back to the sea arrives. It will be just like coming home. [A one-shot/drabble collection, cross-posted from my tumblr.]
1. coming home

_She remembers the fiery hot blaze of destruction that paints the ocean a deep crimson red._

* * *

There's just something so hypnotizing about it, Akagi thinks, as she watches, entranced, at the way the flames flicker— dance and flitter— across the surface of the sea, eventually spiraling away into a wisp of smoke.

For a split of a second she forgets about the despair and the hopelessness over her current predicament, allowing herself to simply indulge in the crackling of the roaring flames before her— like a child all huddled up before the hearth of a fireplace in the middle of a frigid winter.

* * *

 _She remembers the anguished screams of her comrades— of rage and vengeance._

 _Of grief and loss._

* * *

It's madness. It's chaos.

Torpedoes are sent whizzing and cannons are sent blasting at every corner. Everything is a blur, and only the raw emotions in those screams ring through.

Tears fall, mingling with the salt of the sea.

After all, it's a known fact that all ships would eventually return home one day, one way or the other— back to mother ocean.

* * *

 _Akagi remembers watching_ _ **her**_ _fall._

* * *

And it happens all too quickly before she can even react.

She remembers her heart splitting into two, her gut dropping into an oblivion, her voice reaching to great heights, then finally cracks when she sees the ghost of a broken smile on her bloodied face.

And she hears a loud snap coming from somewhere deep within herself.

She wants to— no, needs to— close in towards her. (To feel her warmth encased around her one last time.)

But her legs can no longer budge.

She needs to reach out for her. (To interlace their fingers together and hold her close. Palm to palm. Heart to heart.)

But her arms are far too heavy to even move.

And this searing pain in her shoulder is nothing; compared to the excruciating twinge in her chest of watching her one and only love slowly fade away into a pitch of nothingness, consumed by the beautiful raging flames.

As Akagi had thought, the color red has never once suited her after all.

* * *

 _And finally, she remembers sinking._

* * *

All alone.

Embraced by the ocean and kissed by nothing else but the color of blue, blue and more blue.

Blue— Kaga's favorite color.

Akagi smiles.

Surrounded and dyed in her color…

If she closes her eyes and pretends hard enough, it's almost as if she back in her cool embrace.

Sinking… It isn't as bad as they all make it out to be, Akagi thinks in her final moments. Though, she only wishes that she could have one more chance.

Because the next time they were to ever sink…

It'll be together.

Together, by each other's side.

* * *

' _...-san…'_

'… _-kagi-san…'_

"Akagi-san, wake up."

Eyes snapping wide open, Akagi sucks in a gasp.

Air.

Fresh air.

And it takes her a couple seconds to orient herself, fingers flexing and toes, wiggling.

"Akagi-san?" Repeats the same quiet voice from earlier, although this time holding an underlying hint of worry.

Breath hitching, Akagi freezes. Then, gingerly lifts her head, holding her heart between trembling fingers. In the next instant, all she sees is beautiful topazes shimmering back at her, so filled with love, warmth and life.

 _ **Life.**_

And it all comes crashing down on her like a ton of bricks as glances up into that all too familiar face, committing every little curve to memory.

Akagi is not exactly sure to who had moved first, but suddenly, she's all wrapped up in her embrace, gentle arms encircled around her tightly— securely— as if afraid that she might just disappear into thin air.

"Akagi-san… You're finally—" Kaga chokes back on her tears— happy tears— and holds her in a little closer. "You've no idea how long I've waited for you…"

Akagi takes in a shuddering breath, and it is then does she finally notices the tears coursing down her face, but pays no heed to it. Smiling, she leans forth, nuzzling into a trembling shoulder and tightens her grasp around a slim waist, breathing in the crisp fragrance of ice and winter— Kaga.

"Kaga-san, sorry it took me awhile, but I'm home."


	2. in the snow

_2\. in the snow_

* * *

"It's been getting real cold…"

Akagi remarks, breathing softly, frost flowing past her lips in visible rising puffs as she brings her palms together in a weak attempt to retain some form of heat.

Footsteps falling in place, fresh snow crunches beneath them crisply.

"Yes, it is," murmurs Kaga from beside her, fingers tugging at the thick woolen blue muffler she has, wrapped snuggly around her.

Inwardly, she wonders— with a blush— if this is cue for her to do something that could pass off as remotely 'romantic'.

As fate would have it, at a sudden blast of frigid cold air, Akagi braces herself wholly, shivering while shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

Without missing a beat, Kaga rushes in, swiftly swiping her muffler off and encircling it around a particularly slim neck in one smooth motion.

When the deed is done, Akagi beams up at her sweetly, eyes crinkling into crescents, "Thank you." She croons.

With the barest of pink dusting at her cheeks, Kaga flashes a genuine smile.

"Don't mention it," she shrugs.

Because putting herself through this subzero cold, unarmed and defenseless, is every bit worth it for her.

Their footsteps pick up once more. Though, this time Akagi appears to be lagging behind for whatever odd reasons.

"But don't you feel cold, Kaga-san?"

"My body temperature is higher than average. I'm fine, thank you."

A soft indignant huff and Kaga whirls around, just in time to catch a brief glimpse of an adorable pout.

"Well, I'm still cold, so don't mind me."

Stomping up towards Kaga, Akagi then launches herself at the pony-tailed girl at full force, nearly toppling her over into the thick blanket of snow below as said-girl struggles to catch her footing.

"A-Akagi-san…?"

"Kaga-san, you liar." Akagi frowns, unearthing the fingers Kaga has, burrowed in the deepest depths of her own pockets.

She gives her hand a gentle, yet firm squeeze.

"And you said you weren't cold." She admonishes lightly while Kaga hangs her head bashfully like a child who has been caught red-handed stealing from a cookie jar.

Akagi releases a sigh then, looking to Kaga softly, gaze filled with unbridled affection. "Just what am I to do with you," she mumbles, tugging Kaga closer as she unfurls and rewinds the muffler to include her this round.

And suddenly she's just so, so very close.

Close to the point where Kaga could make out every tiny little speck of frost clinging to her lashes as she blinks up at her, grinning lopsidedly in that all so very endearing way of hers.

She's just so beautiful, with her cheeks all flushed and hair lightly dusted in snow. Even more so with the wintry white landscape as a backdrop.

With that, Kaga is spellbound, caught in the magic of the moment as she subconsciously draws in.

But is broken out of it by a chaste peck on the lips.

She blinks, perplexed, and is met with an unusually coy smile and flaming pink cheeks, buried deep under the blue of her muffler.

Warm fingers grasp for her, pulling her onwards as bell-like laughter fills the air.

"Come on, Kaga-san, lets head on home now."

And hence is the magic of winter.

The magic of one Akagi.


	3. metamorphosis

_3\. metamorphosis_

* * *

 _LV. 1_

Even as a bumbling little toddler— fresh out of construction— who has barely started taking her first steps, Kaga has always been enraptured by the stars in her eyes.

Yes, even then.

She remembers being absolutely fascinated by each and every sparkle— every fall and every flicker— evident in those precious topaz pools, like the million of stars that paint the midnight blue sky.

She's at the age where beauty is a distant foreign concept, far too complicated for her infantile mind to grasp. But even so, it doesn't stop her from being inexplicably drawn to the glittering dancing lights in her eyes as she reaches out, gurgling and grabbing with her grubby little fingers.

Though of course, she has never once been able to reach it, always being met halfway by longer, slender digits and palms that are much wider than her own.

A large toothy smile, and the sound of bell-like laughter fills the air.

"Aww, Kaga-chan, aren't you adorable!"

Kaga burbles back happily, tugging at the wiggling digits she has in her confines, giving a loud squeal.

Because it is times like these that the stars burn the most brightly— like a supernova bursting through the galaxy.

And she just wants to keep watching it.

But alas, the writhing fingers under her captivity calls for her attention and she plunges them right into her mouth, gnawing at them as she babbles away contentedly.

A soft sigh; the lights flicker, burning brightly in a way that catches Kaga's gaze— entranced.

"Not again, Kaga-chan…"

* * *

 _LV. 7_

Ever since picking up a pen and paper, and being taught how to read and write, Kaga has been obsessed with nothing but words.

Of course, the first thing she has learnt to write, is none other than her own birth name— Kaga. (加賀) But she has long since added a couple more words— complicated ones like airplane and flight deck— into her relatively small repertoire that has especially made Houshou pleased at her efforts.

She enjoys the way the letters curve with a simple swish of the pen; the way formless patterns and markings eventually add up to something meaningful in a matter of seconds. It all fills her up with a sense of childish wonder and accomplishment.

So Kaga writes, writes and writes, tracing letters after letters, bringing sense and meaning into her small enough world that merely rests behind sliding paper doors and no where near the roaring ocean outside.

But if there's anything that Kaga just can't get enough of writing, it would be _**her**_ name— Akagi. (赤城)

For hours on end, she would lose herself in the myriad of straight lines and strokes.

Akagi. (赤城)

With every slope resembling the gentle curve and slant to her face— the way her eyes would crinkle into crescents, lips curling upwards into that endearing lopsided grin.

Akagi. (赤城)

Heavy bold strokes that reminds Kaga of a tempest, gallant and strong with her shoulders squared as she stands up to Houshou stoutly, admitting to a wrong that isn't hers.

Akagi. (赤城)

It brings Kaga a lot closer to her like this— somehow— tracing her name over and over again, till the originally blank canvas is filled with nothing but the shadows of her blinding smiles.

Because while Akagi might not be physically present, her soul is still with Kaga on script and paper.

And that's enough reassurance of her absence for Kaga.

"Come on, I'm bored. Kaga, let's go out and play!" urges Zuikaku, restless from all that lolling about in the room for the past hour or so.

Bounding over to Kaga, she tugs at one of quiet girl's loose sleeves, then pauses briefly as she peeks over her shoulder inquisitively, squinting.

"Whatcha' writing there? A... Aka... Akashi?"

"It's Akagi," answers Kaga softly, albeit full of pride, clumsy fingers tracing over the deeply embedded markings of that all too familiar name, immortalized on a single piece of scrap paper. "Akagi-san..."

Zuikaku blinks. Once. Twice. Then rolls at her shoulders carelessly, not looking the least bit interested, "Whatever."

Encircling an arm around Kaga, she yanks her out of her sitting position and up onto her feet with a force far greater than what is expected of a mere level six ship, ultimately prying her away from her pen and paper.

"Come on already, let's head down to the dojo. If we're lucky, we can catch Shoukaku-nee and Akagi at practice!"

At the brief mention of her name, Kaga perks up immediately, relenting and sighing resignedly as she allows herself to be led away by the energetic pig-tailed girl.

"Alright, I get it already…"

Because, even with pen and paper, with words and names held close to her heart.

Nothing can ever beat the real thing.

* * *

 _LV. 15_

It's right about the time when Akagi and Shoukaku have both started to sortie for missions that Kaga begins experiencing strange visions of sorts.

It strikes her at moments when she least expects it— especially at times when she's at her most vulnerable— like a blinding white supernova streaking across her eyes.

Sometimes, she sees the raging sea, twisting and crashing about tauntingly, with the roar of the zero fighters— the cacophony of propellers— sounding overhead.

At times she sees red. The crackle of fire as it whips and lashes at her face, licking at her feet as it consumes her whole. And there's that piercing call of her name. Frantic. Grieved. And it sends the chills down her spine.

' _Kaga-san!'_

A blink.

And Kaga is suddenly staring at a blank target across still waters and clear blue skies, bow drawn and arrow held stiffly in position.

The mid-day sun that is beating down on her, is so glaringly bright and her head is swimming and spinning, filled with the afterimages of her latest vision— of mangled bodies of her comrades floating adrift in callous waves.

It is only recently that they have gotten so vivid, bursting with so much color and clarity that it throws her off balance at times.

Kaga draws out a soft breath before lowering her bow resignedly.

She's in no state to deliver a perfect shot, and she knows that very well.

Unlike a certain somebody.

"Zuikaku, you're losing your form," chides Houshou from the side, brows creasing in worry and maternal instincts kicking into high gear. "I think it's time you take a break—"

"No…" Zuikaku heaves, gritting at her teeth as she reaches for another arrow shakily.

Looking past blistered fingers that are bandaged once— maybe even twice over— Kaga notes the fatigue lining those youthful features, making her look wearier and far much older beyond the years.

"No, I can't stop here just yet." She declares, muscles pulling taut as she draws her bow with one last final spur of strength. A dark look flitters over her face briefly, marring it with a deep frown. "Not when Shoukaku-nee is out there, putting her life on the line with every sortie."

Inwardly, Kaga wonders if Zuikaku, too, experiences flashes of disturbing visions as well.

And if so, what does she see?

Are they the reason why she's pushing herself so hard?

Are they the reason why she has gotten so unusually temperamental and antsy over the past couple of weeks?

What has she seen that has her so shaken with every little scratch that Shoukaku returns from every sortie?

But of course, Kaga could never bring herself to ask her all that.

Not when whatever's left of their friendship is already treading on thin ice.

Zuikaku launches her arrow and unsurprisingly, misses the target completely.

Kaga lowers her eyes, sighs, then gathers her bow quietly into its sheath, slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'll be retiring for the day, please excuse me." With a short bow to Houshou, she makes for a silent exit, albeit catching the dirty look that Zuikaku throws her as she leaves.

Because then again, Kaga will never tell a single soul; that when looking at Akagi, she sometimes sees glimpses and figments of a broken smile on a bloodied face, trembling fingers, reaching out for her and holding her close, with her name repeated over and over again in a dying whisper.

It's things like this that gets Kaga thinking.

Are they really visions, or are they something more?

* * *

 _LVL. 30_

It's on her first remodel that Kaga finally regains all that she had once lost.

The process, which she had worried herself over for nights, had gone on smoothly without a hitch. And if she were to compare it with anything, it would be like waking up from a dream.

Her mind feels oddly heavy and hazy yet, clear at the same time.

She fingers her new bow off to her side, tracing along its long, slender spine.

Though, it's not 'new' per se if she had used it once, a long _**long**_ time ago.

Wistfully, she sheathes her bow, then proceeds to walk out of the factory with her shoulders squared and chin held high, with the pride of the first carrier task force resting heavily on her shoulders.

And without a doubt, Akagi is there, waiting for her.

 _Like always._

As Kaga gradually comes to a halt before her, she sends her a small tentative smile.

And its almost like the fog over Kaga's eyes has lifted.

Just how many times had she witnessed her fall and sink in a heap of flames, over and over again?

How many times have they reunited like this?

As sisters. Friends. Partners.

And… Lovers.

She remembers it all.

Standing eye to eye with Akagi, she has finally caught up to her.

At long last.

She finally understands the meaning behind each wistful gaze and every rueful smile, the reason why she occasionally awake in a heap of gasps and (sometimes tears) as she desperately reaches out for her during the night.

Kaga understands them all now.

"Akagi-san…" She whispers, a watery smile on her lips and a hidden apology embedded in her eyes as she closes the distance between them.

"Kaga-san," beams Akagi, and she sees the unadulterated joy— love and adoration— bursting through glittering topaz. She folds her arms over her in an all too familiar embrace, pulling Kaga impossibly close— as close to her heart as humanely possible.

" _Welcome back."_


	4. the color of hope

_4\. the color of hope (it's the shade of your eyes)_

* * *

The concept of death is certainly something Akagi is no stranger to.

As a soldier— a tool— and a long-time veteran to this endless war to reclaim the seas, one can probably surmise that Akagi knows death fairly well. In fact, intimately so.

She can't even count with her fingers, the number of times she has seen her comrades fall during heated battles, bodies withering away into the deep blue of the ocean in a trail of crimson before they can even form out their last words— or even before Akagi can catch her breath or steel her heart.

With a final resonating blast of cannons and whizzing rain of arrows-cum-torpedoes from above, and they're gone. Lost forever in a blink of an eye.

The only reminder of them is the rattle in Akagi's heart that thunders through her veins like a tempest as it fuels her entire being with an insurmountable rage— and vengeance.

Regretfully, she has only managed to hold a couple of them— only a couple— in her arms during their final moments. But it's worse— much worse— when she has to watch the light in their eyes go off in a flicker, leaving nothing but just a glazed over empty shell in its stead; or the way their bloodied grip over her finally slackens, limbs going limp with one last exhale, their final words of hope and farewell to be carried away by the fleeting breeze.

(Akagi always makes it a note to hold them a tad tighter than usual because a small part of her can only hope that by doing so, it'll tie them down somehow. But it never does work.)

And when she has to lower them down to rest, watching them drift— sinking deep— into the oblivion, as they return back to the embrace of the sea, like all ship girls will eventually do, it shreds her completely inside, tearing away a tiny piece of her heart as they depart.

But alas, Akagi is a battle-hardened soldier before anything else, with set duties and expectations weighing heavily over her shoulders.

There is no time for mourning— no time for grief for those who had fallen— on the battlefield. Schooling herself together, she throws one last look over her shoulder in quiet remembrance of her fellow comrade— her fellow friend— and draws her bow.

Akagi isn't particularly afraid of death. In fact, there are certain dark moments in her life where she welcomes it even. After all, death is a form of peace— a reward for ship girls for all their fighting is worth.

But ultimately, it is the thought of leaving _**her**_ — her dearest Kaga-san— behind that keeps Akagi grounded. And it is for that same reason that she grits her teeth and continues to fight on.

To live on.

Because to be consigned to the burden and anguish of being left behind without one's other half is a fate worse than death, and it is something Akagi does not wish to befall on her beloved— as it had been for her once, a long time ago.

And it is also with her constant run-in with death that she has learnt to truly appreciate life for what it is, taking comfort in the littlest of things.

Like watching the gentle rise and fall of her beloved's chest, in tune to the soft breathings coming through lightly parted rosy lips during the break of dawn upon awakening; or resting her head against ample bosoms, and listening to the strong resonance of her heart, pounding against her ribs as she laces their fingers together, drawing in close and drowning in nothing but her scent and her warmth.

It is things like this that gives Akagi all the respite that she needs— just by knowing that she's alive and well. (Alive more than anything else.)

And when her dearest consort stirs and flutters her eyes open, dark lashes sweeping against porcelain cheeks as she gazes back at her sleepily through beautiful sparkling amber orbs, a languid smile tugging on her lips, Akagi instinctively knows.

From the immediate winding of her arms around her waist, pulling her as humanely close as possible, and the soft contented hum that rumbles through her entire being after nuzzling into the slant of Akagi's neck where her pulse— life— is throbbing heavily.

" _Good morning, Akagi-san."_

 _ **She**_ is her reason for fighting on for this war.

Smiling softly at her lover, Akagi is unable to help herself as she sweeps aside ruffled bangs and lays a tender kiss down onto her forehead.

" _Good morning, Kaga-san."_


	5. forget me, not

5\. forget me, not

* * *

Do you remember of how when we were younger, we used to sit atop that hill. The one that overlooks the headquarters of the naval district; at the vantage point where the sun kisses the earth in greeting as the day begins and ends.

We would lie in the softest of flowerbeds, surrounded by a myriad of colors, the rays of the sun gently warming our faces for hours on end; your hand in mine and my head against your shoulder. We would count the clouds that float us by.

It was where we used to sneak off to whenever we played hooky. From Houshou-san and the chores she'd put us to with, and— as we grew older— from the Admiral and her endless paperwork. It was a secret place we shared together. A place that no one knew of, but us alone. Our sanctuary of peace and quietude.

You would seek out the reddest— most striking— flower atop that hill for me, while I would do the same for you, picking out the bluest of flowers worthy of your color.

" _They're beautiful,"_ you remarked, once, many summers ago. Back when we were still mindless youths; mature but not quite fully grown to bear the responsibility of the world— of war and bloodshed—upon our shoulders just yet.

Sitting there, amongst the flowers, basking under the golden glow of the sun, you had looked so beautiful then. Far more beautiful than any flower resting atop this very hill, and even the one you had held, cradled delicately in your hands.

I watched as you finger over a bright blue petal ever so pensively.

" _What are they called?"_ You asked, glancing up at me, eyes bright and alight with curiosity.

" _Forget-me-nots_." I answered, smiling lightly in turn.

A look, crossed between that of surprise and amusement, flashed you by then.

" _Nothing can ever make me forget you, Akagi-san."_ You had said to me, eyes soft and voice teeming with unbidden affection. _"Not even if it killed me so."_ You whispered, most ardently, with the faintest of smiles curling at your lips and your eyes, shining back at me in earnest, gripping tightly at the reigns of my heart.

" _I will never forget you."_

And for a brief second, I forgot how to breathe.

" _I know,"_ I said, gingerly prying the delicate blue flower out of your fingers as I gently tucked it between your hair, leaning in close as I cupped the side of your face, fingers tracing against the smooth of your cheek with utmost tenderness and love. _"And I, you."_

It was probably one of my most fondest memory I had of this place, and I sometimes wonder if it had been the same for you as well.

Did you know?

Whenever you were sent off on a sortie or an expedition without me, I would encompass myself in those bright blue flowers, dyed in your precious color— those forget-me-nots— and I'd pretend that you were there by my side in those brief fleeting moments.

Pretend that the soft caress of petals over my skin was your touch, ever so gentle and tender. Pretend that the warmth of the sun shining down upon me were your arms, winding around me, trapping me up against your pleasant heat.

It was how I had coped with being alone, without your presence by me.

And as I hold your hand in mine now— your smaller fingers wiggling in my grasp— I wonder if you still remember the days we had spent together atop this hill.

"They're beautiful," You breathe, childish awe and amazement sparking through your topaz depths as I present to you the same blue flowers from many summers and winters back.

Fresh out of construction, you are as curious about the world as a young fledgling bird, and I can see the hunger— the deep yearning for knowledge and curiosity— burning in your eyes.

I watch as you finger over a blue petal, that all-so very familiar thoughtful expression written over your youthful face, and something heavy settles in my chest then, swelling as the seconds tick by.

"What are they called?" You ask, glancing up at me, and if I hadn't steeled myself, I would have probably cracked right there and then in front of you.

"Forget-me-nots," I say, mustering a smile up at you. And I wonder if you noticed the slight quiver of my lips or the warble of emotion in my voice.

Or the silver glint of tears that are pricking, searing at the corner of my eyes.

" _They're called forget-me-nots."_

(You've forgotten.)

* * *

 _ **A/N:** _ A really short bittersweet drabble for everyone. Hope you all enjoyed this piece! I was more or less bedridden for two days, and this idea just kinda struck me while I was left to my thoughts for a really, really long while, and thankfully it stayed long enough till I managed to get my hands on my laptop to start writing it all out. But yep, anyway, thank you very much for reading! :)


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